Author
Topic: Tales of Misadventure [Isle of Woe] (Read 73709 times)

The obsidian-skinned priestess merely stood in the middle of the charnal room at first, letting that fell scene soak into her soul. To see beast and man beaten into submission, the passions destroyed, subsumed into death and fear, this is why her lord had sent her. "This place shall burn." Her flail held out before her, she pulled the chain taut with a horrid clinking, her red eyes glaring about the room in anger - enough that she completely missed the request from above for identification.

But, as the battered villager approached her, she reached down, her ebony hand lifting the villager's face. "You are broken, boy. You have not the wrath to follow where we will walk. Flee this place, and at the door, speak the magic word Yinsoso. Heal, and learn again to hate those who have done this to you. This is the mercy of the Lord. Now, RUN." Her finger stabbed in the direction of the door through which they entered. Perhaps he would be wise enough to listen. Perhaps not. But his blood would not be on her hands.

As the elf descended and went down, she shook her head, falling silent as the half-orc spoke. "We have not come in peace." No. Rather, they came to rend someone into pieces. "But our quarrel is focused upon the master of this place." Well, mostly. Mostly.

"It is not only you... My titles mean naught to the world, Child of Azul! Old glories, faded and forgotten. I know not of this Watching Egg of whom you speak, for I was sentenced to exile eternal, and a portal was opened for me to enter!"

The Levitating Elf did not land on the floor, keeping a healthy distance to the angry orc-thing. Clearly did he remember his early youth, and the fury of Arolay, his childhood friend. Arolay had lost his mother in an Orc raid, and with insane anger he had abandoned the bow. During his very first raid, Arolay was taken by battle frenzy and charged a lone orc with his longsword and elven armor. The orc had merely laughed as Arolay flung his sword wildly, screaming with insane hatred with each blow. Protected from their arrows by the bulk of Arolay's body, the Orc dodged a handful swings, blocked a couple more, then drove his pointed blade effortlessly through his heart. Ardhalas would never forget the stupified look Arolay had in death, nor would he ever forget the lesson learnt that day. For bow and arrow are the elves' best friends, and the Children of Azul are fearless, skilled warriors in melee.

Was that an elf at their side? She looked elvish enough, but her appearance... Somehow tainted, corrupted blood of the First Empire. So many questions and endless corridors in this place. Had he been sent to this place, to die alone in forsaken corridors, surrounded by mysteries and mutated elven blood?

"I was told that this was to be a place of proper punishment. That I would die alone and friendless in this place, and at the end I would know the full extent of my punishment", the elf had trained an arrow at the Orc-thing now.

The Half-Orc was silent for some time, bow trained on the newcomer as he considered the levitating man. In his head the spirits screamed for blood - the voices had been strong and untempered since entering the pyramid, as though they were desperate to break free - this was new to Somnak; he had never felt this sensation before.Finally, Somnak chose to ignore his ancestor's wailing, instead lowering his bow slowly and removing the arrow. Is Somnak his slayer? "Not today, elf. We shall see what the morrow brings."

Somnak peered up to the shadow filled hole in the roof, then peered around for other exits. "You are a warrior." it was a statement, not a question. "You have been exiled and seek your punishment - you seek the one who will slay you." the orc spat on the ground in disgust, "To accept that is cowardice! Are you a coward!? Turn the tables on your fate, elf! Become the Slayer! Join us in the hunt for the Watching Egg! At the very least i can guarantee you a glorious death in battle, worthy of a warrior; not a coward!"Within his head, the spirits cried in a frenzy at his words.

Ardhalas sighed and reduced altitude, landing on the floor with the tip of his toes first, gently landing in a catlike crouch.

"A truce it is then, Orc. I will accompany you for a while and find this Watching Egg of yours. Me, I long for nothing but a chance to go back to the Empire and regain the things I lost. If that means crushing an Egg, well, the Egg will be crushed"

OOC: Ardhalas will question the trio about the Watchful Egg, and get up to date on what it is and why they are here. If they tell him it is a beholder, he will tell them of such creatures in his homeland, and how a single such being once laid waste to the Blue Glass City and killed all who lived therein. He will also tell them of the purplish knob above.

As Ardhalas landed, Brin pointed in the way that the Seneschal appeared to have come. "We discuss while we hunt. I would prefer that the false priest not reach his master - It would be difficult to slay them both at once. Thorgir, if you would?" The dark human woman smiled almost maliciously as she asked the barbarian to lead the way, for she was anticipating the slaughter...

A tense showdown averted with the new arrival, the companions proceeded out of the meat larder and through the passage Ardhalas had opened earlier...

Though Brin had asked the barbarian to lead, Somnak was already moving, the half-orc's bloodlust still(!) percolating inside.

Ardhalas followed cautiously, relating tales of Eye Tyrants and their destruction of the Blue Glass city as he walked, attempting to educate these hunters. That these three were some sort of "savages", to Ardhalas there was little doubt. But here he was. When in Ro-Ahm...he remembered an old saying from his youth.

Ardhalas suddenly whirled around on instinct alone, just in time to see two, what were they, elves(?!) enter the chamber silently. One had a gleam in his eye, the other...a female, a rather attractive one, though primitive looking to a True Elf of the First Empire. A scimitar of bone in each hand, and a rather thick python draped around her neck, completed her look. Her companion had no weapons, but rather an over-developed forehead.

When Thorgir made a vulgar sound, that somehow seemed to combine... "Elves!", "Feck!", "Finally", "About Time", and "@!#$" into one guttural syllable, Ardhalas relaxed a bit. It seemed there were more of these Egg Hunters about.

...

The madman followed them meekly, bloodied and disheveled. He was too scared to go off alone, even with the urging Brin had given him to escape the Pyramid.

...

The doorway opened into another sterile hallway then began to ascend sharply. As they made their way, they could hear muffled sounds somewhere behind them. They were somewhere near the center of the pyramid, but well below its capstone.

Brin, Somnak, Thorgir all expected some sort of physical confrontation (and bloodshed) at any moment. After all, it had been a whole half hour since they were last attacked by the Bamboo Jumble, and it was nigh time. ()

But no. Silence greeted them and more white walls.

The hallway straightened once more, and it seemed they were on a new “level” of pyramid, having taken the long route, in lieu of the moving chambers.

They came to yet another purple knob on the wall and pushed it in, revealing yet another doorway and yet another hall.

This was utterly maddening.

Along this hallway however to their left they could make out what looked like three chambers with actual doors, sleek metallic ones, thick and impregnable-looking. Each door had a small slit at eye level, allowing one to see inside. Inside however was utter darkness, so nothing could actually be seen.

Along the wall beside the three chambers was something etched in the stone in a seemingly indecipherable language, some sort of message or information imparted. All three of the doors,had a ubiquitous purple crystal-button in the wall next to it.

To their right, they could make out a quick dead-end and another doorway blocking passage, a hatch-like circular door, also metallic, and sealed tightly into the stone. This door reminded Thorgir of round Halfling doors, he had once seen in his youth. He remembered fondly when he had once ripped one off its hinges on a bet with a Stout.

There was another message scrawled into the white stone above this round door as well.

The addled villager stayed silent, his eyes darting around, fixating first on the three doorways, then the fourth. He seemed less nervous and more anxious for some reason. "I will hide here" he offers meekly.

PoisonAlchemist: Man Muro, you boost my confidence and then you just go crush it with a heartbreaking work of staggering genius.Pariah: Don't tell him things like that, if his head gets any bigger he'll float off like a weather ballon :p

PoisonAlchemist: Man Muro, you boost my confidence and then you just go crush it with a heartbreaking work of staggering genius.Pariah: Don't tell him things like that, if his head gets any bigger he'll float off like a weather ballon :p

As Brin stood for a moment, and considered the doors, her blood-red eyes narrowed, and she stared at them. She frowned, then placing her hand next to one of the three doors, not yet on the purple stone. "... This one is... inferior in worksmanship to the others. An addition, I think. Can anyone read these cursed things?"

(ooc: Brin made successful perception check on the three doors ^ while Thorgir failed his 'open doors' roll, to pry the round door from the wall.)

As she studies the strange "door", it makes a sudden sound *GLORP GLOP BLOORRRP*

...and instantly numerous jelly-like tendrils erupted from the very door, which now appeared as some huge, malleable goo; the door itself, purple-knob and even plaque(!) all now seemed to be a single quivering mass, just between opaque and translucent. How patient this creature must have been, to lair here, camouflaged to resemble the two doors next to it, unmoving, all this time! But now at last, dinner had arrived.

The amorphous creature lashes out at Brin and attempts to pull her inside its own gooey flesh.

(ooc: The gelatinous creature disguised as a door attacks, hits, and does 7 points of damage to Brin. Brin needs to save vs paralyzation, or be, you guessed it, paralyzed for 5-20 rounds!! If paralyzed Brin takes 2-8 points of damage/round automatically.)

PoisonAlchemist: Man Muro, you boost my confidence and then you just go crush it with a heartbreaking work of staggering genius.Pariah: Don't tell him things like that, if his head gets any bigger he'll float off like a weather ballon :p

The opening of doors distracted Lumori from contemplating the various ways his companions entrails could be used to decorate the interior of the compartment. He shelved the thought for now, making a note to remember the particularly creative one involving a triple-spiral. That one held some promise, but the room beyond appeared more interesting for the moment.

He waved the two guards forward and began to make his way into the chamber, slowly and carefully edging his way from statue to statue, listening for anything that might break the unnatural silence.

Almost shouting in surprise, Melior quickly recovered himself. He must look brave to Meleana, after all. He was about to, once more, cast a hail of magic missiles at this latest threat, before he thought better of it. This seemed almost liquid. Perhaps fire might be the better choice?

He calmly and, in his honest opinion, like a bad**, cast Flaming Sphere, and called the weapon into being above the... Goo-thing's head. Noticing the creature's attempt at pulling Brin within itself, Melior directed the sphere to attempt to push its way inside the monster's own body.

The description of the spell says that it can't push aside heavy stuff, so it might not be able to enter the monster's flesh. If it can't, then Melior will simply keep it rolling around on the back half of the thing so his buddies don't get hurt (but who cares if they do get hurt from friendly fire? Not Melior). Also, it lasts a round per level, so for the rest of the combat or the sphere's duration, Melior will keep the sphere rolling around on/within the monster, doing 2d4 damage each round.

(ooc: no, Brin didn't hit, but every else did. And did enough damage to kill it. It only had 4 HD. Brin takes 1 pt of damage from Melior's rolling ball of flame due to proximity. Two doors, and a round door remain unmolested.)

Somehow Brin managed to elude the paralyzing effects of the Stunjelly's slime, and then the counter-assault began in earnest...

Ardhalas' shafts pierced deeply into the goop, Thorgir's sword sliced through a tendril to send it flying down the corridor, and Melior's rolling ball of fire made the jelly squeal, and begin to melt, until all that remained of the creature was a puddle of slime on the floor. As the Stunjelly withered away to nothing, an object could be seen on the floor, something the creature could not digest apparently. A electrum half-helm, with wings-motif and a prominent nasal bar.

PoisonAlchemist: Man Muro, you boost my confidence and then you just go crush it with a heartbreaking work of staggering genius.Pariah: Don't tell him things like that, if his head gets any bigger he'll float off like a weather ballon :p

Somnak shuddered at the deceptive beast; but its demise was swift, so he wasted no time. "Does anyone have some flint?" Brin offered the orc her fire making tools, and Somnak fished in his bag for some time, until he pulled out a ball of string. Working quickly, he pulled out two lengths, bundling each into a ball suitable for kindling. He then struck the flint with steel, the sparks catching on the string, and - bouncing the small balls of flame tenderly in his hands - pushed each through the small slits of darkness in each door. The fire was weak, but provided adequate illumination, "Everyone take a look in before the flame dies - see what you see. Many eyes are better than one keen set!"

small stringballs of fire fed through the slits: trying to see inside before risking opening them. Sorry about short, non descriptive posts! Very busy day here

It was with no ceremony at all that Brin drew up the phlem from her throat, and spat into what remained of the jelly. Scowling, she slowly poured water over the wounds, wincing in pain as she did so - and cursing once more. The Jelly's toxins had eaten too deeply for such simple treatment, and been seared in by the fires.

She closed the circle of her hands about the symbol that hung from her chest, and the violet fire that had touched Thorgir's wounds enveloped her, her expression twisting into a fury fit for an enraged barbarian. The fury swept through her, and made her whole once more, and it was clear upon her face that in some way, she enjoyed it, as one might a fine wine. The purity of purpose, her need to destroy the master of this place filled her in a way that no liquor or lover, no matter how potent, ever could. And then, the magic began to fade from her, leaving the divine fury to seep from her body, another little piece of the divine rage within her expended for the day. (17:29:07) Siren_no_Orakio: Healing Check: 13 or under to succeed:(17:29:10) Minion: Siren_no_Orakio rolls 1d20 and gets 17.Cure light wounds: (17:31:48) Minion: Siren_no_Orakio rolls 1d8 and gets 8.

Meleana had been very surprised to see yet another elf, though not a very attractive one. He looked like he had been through hell and back, with some leeway given on the "back" part. Still, it was nice to see another of her kind. She tried engaging him in some small talk after the quick introduction as they were walking, her old elven dialect seemed perfectly in tune with Ardhalas's elven, which was strange, as Melior's elven seemed very different.

< "Verily thou'st art saying that thee hail from the first empire?" >

She barely batted an eye-lid as he lifted his bow and fired, Melior cast a spell and several things happened at once. She gave a look of surprise as a jelly puddle formed on the floor. She shrugged, disinterested and continued.

< "Mine ancestors lost the lore of where'st they hailed over the course of their long exile, pray tell whil'st thou humour me and regale me with tales of yonder homeland?" >

She smiled and hugged her pet boa, giving Ardhalas her full attention, poor Melior forgotten at the moment.

Arching an eyebrow as he studied the magical energies, Ardhalas replied to the strange elvish girl.

"... Girl... Meleana... Was that your name? Yes, I arrived here from Old Althyras a couple of days ago. You see, I loved the Crown Princess of Althyras, even before, when she was but the Girl of the Meadow, and for that I was sentenced to eternal exile. You see, when royal loins burst with desire, commoners' love have to step aside. It was not so easy for me... Some days ago, I am not sure of how many, the High Priest of the Allfather opened a magical portal on Griffon Square. There I was led in chains before an infuriated mob, and this here mark was branded unto my face"

Ardhalas traced the outlines of the X with his fingers.

"Then I was sent through the portal, to serve my sentence, to wither and to die, and in the end to fully understand the extent of my exile."

Ardhalas sighed and slowly drew his breath.

"There are several things I do not understand. Why do you even parlay with me? It is custom for bearers of the mark of treason to be shunned, spoken to and aided by no elf, even the closest of kin."

Ardhalas grimaced as he twisted thumbs and spidery fingers, weaving a pattern around the helmet, but also discreetly tracing Meleana and the others assembled in the corridor.

"... And... What happened to you? Your eyes... I have never seen their like. And that thing around your neck, I heard of them once, from a traveler from Southern Myrkolar. Do they not strangle and devour their prey? Are not you potential prey?"

Finishing his spell, he paused.

"I can identify this helmet. It is most definitely magical! I think we should draw straws or cast dice for it, and the winner gets it. Any of you have dice?"

Walking softly to the etchings on the wall, Ardhalas touched them with his fingers.

"My magic reading also told me that this inscription is in the dialect of magic. I can read that too, but I need to rest and meditate in order to do both these things."

Thorgir shrugged. The jelly-thing had not really spent any of his anger, and it was all he could do not to drop kick the helmet out of the elf's hands.Instead he began to pace the room like a caged tiger.

His mood was somewhat mollified at the short honeymoon Melior had with the elf-princess.

PoisonAlchemist: Man Muro, you boost my confidence and then you just go crush it with a heartbreaking work of staggering genius.Pariah: Don't tell him things like that, if his head gets any bigger he'll float off like a weather ballon :p